


Misty, bloody woods

by sugarpanties



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Good Peter Hale, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Pixies, Protective Lydia Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarpanties/pseuds/sugarpanties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?"</p><p>OR</p><p>Stiles' powers are drained after a ritual/spell, Peter goes into the woods to bring something that will help back. The fact that his mate almost died and is still sick makes him a little bit insecure. Stiles will have none of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misty, bloody woods

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I've been thinking about for some time. It's not my best, but I needed to get it out of my system.  
> Sorry for the mistakes, hope you'll like it.

Stiles was staring out of a window. The weather was cold, but probably not too much, just to put on a jacket and go for a walk. That was what Peter had been up to. For the last three hours. So Stiles stood by the window glaring into the misty woods. His fingers were frozen, his lips probably blue in the chilly house, but he refused to move. He was scared to blink or even to draw a breath.

Peter had been gone for the last three hours and nobody could guarantee he would be back anytime soon. Stiles knew or at least hoped the werewolf wasn’t doing something life-threatening. He shivered and brought his hands to his mouth. The warm breath didn’t help much.

“You’re gonna turn into an icicle,” said Lydia from behind him and put a blanket around his shoulders.

“That’s not possible,” mumbled Stiles with a frown wriggling his fingers trying to get some feel in them.

“Don’t you want to wait for him in the living room?”

Stiles just shook his head and listened to her soft steps slowly moving away down the hallway. She didn’t try to force him. Lydia just came every half an hour asking the same question. She was probably checking if he was still alive.

Stiles was tired and hungry. He was also mad, because Peter didn’t bother to tell him he would be gone. He just went. Stiles was scared.

He let out a sigh of relief when he finally saw a figure emerging from the woods. Closing his eyes for a moment was a bad idea. As soon as he opened them again, he stumbled a little leaning against a wall for support. He felt dizzy.

“Come on,” there were strong arms squeezing his shoulders – Scott – and a warm hand on his forehead – Erica. “He’s back, so you can eat something, okay, bud?”

Stiles didn’t remember if he managed to nod before he passed out.

 

* * *

 

“If you had been here, it wouldn't have happened!”

Stiles woke up to an angry voice. At least he was warm.

“I needed to take care of something.”

It was his mate’s voice. Always clam, always a little bit arrogant. Stiles smiled and tried to open his eyes. It felt as if his eyelids were glued together.

“And you couldn’t stay for a while to make sure he was fine with you leaving? You know he’s still weak!”

The angry voice was Lydia. She had been very protective of Stiles since he and Peter mated.

“This will make him strong again,” Peter answered sounding offended. Stiles knew he would never hurt him. Not after losing his first mate, not after everything they went through. Peter clung to his sanity with desperation. And his sanity was Stiles.

“Sweetheart,” Stiles coughed and sat up in his bed, “what did you bury in the garden?” he whispered with a smile. Peter was by his side in a flash. He cupped his face with both hands as if he was from porcelain.

“I’m terribly sorry it took me so long,” he smiled softly at Stiles and kissed his forehead.

“You’re here now,” Stiles sighed. “Could you give us a moment, Lyds?” he turned to his friend while his mate hid his face in the crook of his neck. The young woman frowned, but left without another word.

As soon as the doors closed Stiles buried his still cold fingers into Peter’s hair and started to play with them. The werewolf wrapped his arms around him and kissed his shoulder. They were silent for a moment.

“Will you tell me what you dragged home this time?” asked Stiles softly.

“It’s just a little something for you, love,” said Peter. “We all need you to get better,” he added and squeezed the human a little tighter.

“How many throats did you slash tonight?”

“Just one,” Peter never lied to him. “It was a good hunt, the prey strong – your garden should help you regain your strength again.”

Stiles chuckled nuzzling his nose against Peter’s cheek. “Such a good mate, always looking after me. So bloodthirsty.”

“Only for you,” grinned Peter.

“Liar,” Stiles laughed already feeling better. “Tell me, what did you feed my flowers with?”

“A pixie. Vicious little thing.”

Pixies were almost impossible to kill. It was better to leave them alone or make a deal with them if necessary. If someone tried to get disposed of them, the revenge was usually very painful. Stiles was proud, but also unbelievably tired.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded the werewolf. “Don’t leave again.”

“I won’t,” Peter promised and stood up to get rid of his clothes so he could join his mate in their bed. When they were both under the covers, Stiles curled himself close to the werewolf. Peter put his arms around him and drew him closer.

“Please,” Stiles heard after a moment. “Please, don’t do something like this again, Stiles. You almost died. I can’t- without you- please, darling. Please,” Peter was whispering.

It didn’t sound like him. Stiles didn’t know what to do. They were mated for two years, but Peter was still so careful about his emotions around everyone. He always wore a mask. Even around Stiles. There were cracks, maybe even small holes, but he never put it away. To hear him now, so desperate, so vulnerable – it was hard to believe it was truth.

“It hurts to see you like this. I never wanted this. The fact you got involved with me – it should never happen.”

“Do you regret it?” Stiles had to ask. He didn’t understand what was wrong. He thought Peter liked him.

“Silly boy,” Peter chuckled sadly. “I’m too selfish to let you go. You should have run while you still could.”

Ah, so it was guilt. All of them had something to regret, but Peter was probably the most damaged. Stiles could only hold him close and explain his own thoughts. It was hard to convince Peter he deserved anything at all. The fact he deserved happiness always sounded like a joke to the werewolf. However, Stiles refused to give up. He might be incredibly exhausted, but he wasn’t dead yet.

“I’m tired of running, wolf. You’re stuck with me. You’re mine. And if you think you don’t deserve me, you’re probably right, but I don’t give a shit, okay? So you can go back to trying to fall asleep and tomorrow you will make me breakfast and tell me about the pixie you killed for me. I’ll be here. I will always be here, so get used to it,” said Stiles with a yawn. “After two years one would say you know I love you,” he mumbled and fell asleep without waiting for an answer.

Peter didn’t talk about love often, but Stiles didn’t need to hear the words. Unlike Peter he was pretty sure his mate adored him to death and back. He did kill a pixie for him after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, kudos are love!


End file.
